


House of Lanvin

by tinydooms



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Marriage, fashion - Freeform, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydooms/pseuds/tinydooms
Summary: “Rick, old chap, have you got a spare tie I can borrow? Mine’s gone walkabout, I’m afraid.”“In the drawer,” Rick said, gesturing at the dresser.Jonathan bounded over to it and began to rifle the contents. “Evie’s asked Selim to bring the car around; I said I’d drive but she won’t have it. Said a fancy occasion needs a chauffeur. I think she just doesn’t like my driving. Ah, here’s a tie. Thanks, old chap.” He paused and looked Rick over. “I say, are you all right?”Rick gestured at himself. “I look like an idiot.”Jonathan looked him up and down. “Not really. You’re supposed to button the shirt up to the throat. Where’s your tie? Ahaha, a bowtie, I see. Very French. Here.”
Relationships: Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell
Comments: 22
Kudos: 71





	House of Lanvin

**House of Lanvin**

Marriage, Rick O’Connell was finding, was a series of gives and takes–not unpleasant ones, but sometimes, the give wrong-footed him in a way he found totally unexpected. Take tonight. Tonight he was Taking Evie Out. Normally, this would have included dinner at one of Cairo’s myriad restaurants, dancing at one of the European nightclubs, and a nice walk home along the river, possibly with a little innocent hanky-panky along the way. But no. Tonight they were going out to a fancy party at the Cairo Opera House, thrown by the head of the Antiquities Department, so it was white tie and evening clothes all the way. Rick stood in his underwear in the bedroom, looking down in apprehension at the evening suit laid out on the bed. 

They had taken their honeymoon in Paris, mostly because Rick had figured that Paris wouldn’t hold any cursed objects or ancient corpses (he hadn’t reckoned on the Louvre), and partly because Evie had said to him once that she had always wanted a “Paris dress”, which Jonathan informed him meant a bespoke frock from a big designer. That had been easy enough to arrange–they were wealthy now, obscenely so–but Evie had bested him by ordering him a complete evening kit. It was a beautiful suit, all fine wool and soft silk, and it scared the bejeezus out of Rick. He wasn’t going to be able to eat a damn thing all night for fear of ruining it. 

Carefully, Rick put on the crisp white shirt and coal black pants. He picked up the ivory silk waistcoat and put it on; it crossed at the middle and sat at two sharp points. Okay. So far so good. Rick eyed himself in the mirror. Not bad. 

The door opened. 

“Rick, old chap, have you got a spare tie I can borrow? Mine’s gone walkabout, I’m afraid.”

“In the drawer,” Rick said, gesturing at the dresser. 

Jonathan bounded over to it and began to rifle the contents. “Evie’s asked Selim to bring the car around; I said I’d drive but she won’t have it. Said a fancy occasion needs a chauffeur. I think she just doesn’t like my driving. Ah, here’s a tie. Thanks, old chap.” He paused and looked Rick over. “I say, are you all right?”

Rick gestured at himself. “I look like an idiot.”

Jonathan looked him up and down. “Not really. You’re supposed to button the shirt up to the throat. Where’s your tie? Ahaha, a bowtie, I see. Very French. Here.”

The terrifying thing about Jonathan Carnahan, Rick had learned, was that he was terrifyingly competent when he wanted to be. He took Rick in hand, buttoning his shirt up practically to his chin, fastening on a collar, tying the ivory bow tie. He helped Rick shrug into the jacket. 

“There you are, old chap, you look like a film star,” Jonathan said, and smacked Rick’s back. 

Rick snorted. “Think I’ll fool the nobs?”

“You won’t have to. They’ll all be so concerned about one-upping each other, no one will notice what you’re wearing. Besides,” he added, “The Emersons will be there, and you can always count on the Professor to start bellowing and steal the show.”

Rick laughed at that. The archaeological world was full of what Jonathan called “insufferable prats”, but there were excellent exceptions. He had met the Emersons once before and liked them.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “You’ll like this opera. It’s about the Gold Rush and cowboys and bandits and the heroine saves the hero from being hanged at the end.”

“Seriously?” 

“I’m afraid so. It’s in Italian, mind, so we won’t get half the words, but you’ll like it.”

“We could just go and sit in the cheap seats,” Rick said, looking around for his cufflinks. “That’s how I usually go to the opera.”

“What, and waste all your hard work? Besides, there’ll be excellent champagne at this do. Tell you what, if it gets really bad we’ll steal a few bottles, kidnap Evie, and run away.” Jonathan produced the cufflinks from somewhere and handed them over. 

“Sounds good to me.” Rick stuck his feet into his highly polished evening shoes and took a deep breath. “Think I’ll make Evie proud?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “You already do, you git. You’ll make the House of Lanvin proud, too; we should take a picture and send it to ‘em.”

Rick laughed again. “Okay. Now all I need is that stupid hat–” Jonathan handed him the silk topper that the Parisian shop assistant had insisted he buy– “and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Evie was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, resplendent in her black and silver Paris gown, her hair pinned up and her eyes lined in kohl. She grinned when she saw them. 

“Look at my boys, dressed up in their party clothes,” she said. 

Rick grinned back, his anxiety (mostly) melting away. He gave Evie his arm. “Ready to go, Mrs. O’Connell?”

“As I’ll ever be, Mr. O’Connell,” Evie replied. 

“And Jonathan,” Rick added as they walked out the door, “the code word for ‘grab the booze and run’ is asparagus.”

“Right-oh, old chap.” Jonathan took Evie’s other arm. “I’ll grab the booze, you grab the lady, and we’ll run away like a mummy’s on our trail.”

Rick and Evie both laughed, and Rick felt the last of his worry melt away. With this family, he could survive anything. 

Author's Note: [This was a prompt over on my Tumblr](https://tinydooms.tumblr.com/post/616130832584835072/p-and-if-im-not-imposing-a-platonic-one-with), so if you love it and want to reblog, please go for it! Also: I understand that to use the phrase "gone walkabout" is disrespectful, but it wasn't at the time and I'm going to hazard that Jonathan wouldn't have realized it was anyway. So mea culpa. The opera referenced is Puccini's "La fanciulla del West", which is every bit as bonkers (and effing fabulous) as described. Brownie points to those who catch the Emersons reference. ;-) Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments!


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